


Good Beginnings

by grav_ity



Series: grav_ity plays dragon age origins [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 17:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grav_ity/pseuds/grav_ity
Summary: Obviously, Alistair was going to have at least one hang-up about the sex. (Spoilers for Redcliffe, Achievement Unlocked: First Knight)





	Good Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO FRIENDS!
> 
> Here is a fic that you probably all read in 2009, but I'm new and, oh god, I love it here.

Kentha woke to the lightest of touches on her elbow, more a confirmation of her presence stretched out naked in the bedroll than an attempt to get her attention. She looked back over her shoulder at Alistair’s broad face, and the corners of her mouth stretched up without her even thinking about it. Everything was gold and slow, a dreamy quiet—almost surely an illusion unless Wynne had taken it upon herself to cast something on the tent—and Kentha was in no hurry to break the moment.

It had been awkward as hell, of course, all buckles and metal and general inexperience. Alistair got quite distracted as she stripped, and somehow managed to still have his gauntlets on when she closed her mouth around him, metal-clad fingers snagging her coiled braids, but he was wise enough not to pull. He hadn’t lasted very long, which was part of the reason she did it, and by the time he recovered and she pulled him down on top of her beneath their blankets, most of his nervousness had faded. Alistair was eager and attentive and, Maker help them, happy to receive instruction, and eventually things had worked out rather well.

“Are you all right?” he asked as she shifted slightly. His voice was very low, but rock steady in the dark.

“I am,” she hummed in response. She stretched, and didn’t bother to conceal the shudder that swept through her as she pressed her skin against his.

Kentha was about to suggest another way for him to use his pretty mouth when the quiet stillness of him pulled her focus out of the golden abyss.

“Alistair?” she asked.

She would have sat up to look at him, but his arms came around her, locking her in a nearly desperate embrace. She could barely twist her head to see him as he pulled her back against his chest and buried his face in her hair, breath hot against her neck. There was a cool spot pressing on her spine, his amulet, and suddenly, she knew.

“Do you want to say it, or do you want me to guess?” Kentha said, as gently as possible.

“I knew that people enjoyed sex,” he said after a long pause. “My mother couldn’t refuse it. And then I killed her. And I don’t for a moment think that I was worth it.”

His hands skated across her belly and hips and she tried very hard not to push back against the half-hard pressure against her rear.

“It doesn’t matter if he was nice to her,” Alistair said, an uncharacteristic bitterness to his tone. He was always so careful to speak poorly only of himself, and not of any of the royal members of his family. “And I never understood it, before, how someone could take that from another person. But now I understand _wanting to,_ and that’s almost worse.”

Kentha fought against his hold until he loosened his arms enough to let her turn around in his embrace. She pushed him on to his back, and braced herself against his chest.

“You are not your father,” she said. “You couldn’t be.”

“Why not?” he asked. His hands found the ruins of her braids and wrapped them around his fists.

“Because you love everyone,” Kentha said. “You love the people who don’t deserve you, like Cailan and Lady Isolde. And you love the people who would use you, like Duncan and Arl Eamon.”

She bent and kissed the hollow of his throat, where the amulet’s chain welled against his skin. His breath caught, and the hands on her hips tightened, moving her to where he wanted her to be.

“And you love me,” she said. “For no reason other than you like me and you want to. There’s no one with a heart like yours. However you got it, whatever it cost you, you’ve made it into something good.”

He smiled, whispers of his usual self-deprecation and the mask he wore to make sure he was always, always unremarkable, hovering in the back of his eyes. Then Kentha bit her lip and reached between them, guiding herself until she could slide down on to him. He stilled again, and she looked up at him.

“What if there’s a child?” he rasped. “I can’t—Kentha, I can’t do that to anyone else.”

She would have moved away, but he held her and she tried to breathe.

“Then there will be a child,” she said, her voice cracking with want of him. “And you will love them, too.”

“Kentha,” he said. 

“No,” she said. “There are too many questions for us to have all the answers. Too many unknowns for this to be smart.”

“No one has ever accused me of being the smart one,” he said, grinning at last. As usual, it was infectious.

“Then move, Warden,” she ordered. “Or so help me, I will—”

Anything else she might have said was lost as he moved her hips, fingers pressing against muscle and bone. She scrambled to get her knees under her and leaned back, freeing up his hands for other amusements. She tried to stay as quiet as she could—it _was_ only a tent, after all—but he seemed intent on learning every spot on her skin that made her gasp.

Alistair sat up, impeding her freedom of movement as he wrapped an arm around her, but perfecting the angle. Now she was in real danger of making too much noise, except that he kissed her, mouth hungrily devouring any sounds she made while his free hand found the place where they were joined and his fingers went to work. He was an efficient learner, and soon enough she clung to him, riding the waves of her release until he found his own.

He fell back, both of them sprawling on his pillow. The bedroll was a mess—she might have to buy him a new one—and both of them were in dire need of a wash before they thought of putting their armour back on, but Kentha didn’t care. Alistair looked up at her, sunny and vague in all the right ways, and she laughed with him, before burrowing in and following him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So we're all clear: I am less than halfway through the first Dragon Age. Please do not spoil me (even to tell me I'm wrong about something!).


End file.
